Essence of the Tempest
by Elwing-Evenstar
Summary: Something strange and mysterious occurs in Rivendell, causing Elrond, Galadriel and Gandalf to be overwhelmed by the power of the Three Rings. And with danger approaching the Grey Havens, the three friends find much more than they bargained for...
1. Prologue: The Storm

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **I own only Daeglir, Blackfinger and Aeleth. All other characters, and all places belong to Tolkien.

**Prologue: The Storm**

The wind howled angrily through the dark night as rain poured down on Rivendell, accented by lightning bolts that seared the rolling black mass of cloud obscuring the sky. Everyone in the valley was inside Elrond's house, and conditions were cramped.

Elrond Peredhel shivered, using his hand to shield the guttering flame of the candle he was writing by. He glanced over his shoulder at the wizard standing behind him, poking at the inadequate fire in the hearth.

"Do you have anything to use for kindling, Elrond?" Gandalf asked, noticing the elf's dubious look.

Elrond crumpled the parchment he had just been writing on, tossed it to his friend and grabbed a fresh sheet. Gandalf nodded, shoving the parchment deep into the embers with the end of his staff and watching as it ignited.

"I doubt I've seen a darker storm," the wizard remarked conversationally.

"It's certainly one of the darker ones," Elrond replied, frowning over his work. "That won't do," he muttered to himself, scrunching up his second attempt.

"What are you working on?" inquired Gandalf, looking up from the hearth.

"Paperwork," the elf sighed, scowling at the stack of forms on his desk. "As usual."

"You shouldn't let it pile up," said a deep female voice from the doorway.

Elrond smiled wryly as his mother-in-law gracefully entered the room. "What do you know about paperwork, Galadriel? I can hardly see _you_ poring over a desk for hours on end."

The Lady of Lothlórien laughed. "That may be owing to the shortage of desks in Caras Galadhon."

Elrond frowned, casually changing the subject. "I've heard news that there is a band of Corsair ships heading north to Mithlond."

"Corsairs?" repeated Gandalf.

Elrond nodded. "Apparently they sailed past Belfalas, heading north up the coast. It's very unusual for them to venture so far north. They might pose a threat to the elves; they seem to be the Corsairs' target."

"How far are they from the haven?" Galadriel wanted to know.

Elrond opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again as a strong wind extinguished his candle and caused it to wobble. Elrond, reaching out to steady it, received a drop of very hot, molten wax on his finger.

"Blast," the half-elf muttered, cringing in pain as he waited for the wax to cool. Peeling the congealed stuff away from his finger, he flicked it into the fireplace.

The wind howled again, and he shuddered, feeling a sudden wild urge to get up and walk out in the storm, with the wind in his ears and nothing else mattering. He glanced around at his two comrades, noticing the odd, dreamy looks on both their faces.

Slowly Elrond's eyes unfocused. His senses blurred and bled into a grey haze; all he could hear was the wind wailing, calling him. To what destination or purpose, he didn't know. But something told him to heed the summons.

He rose, moving toward the door as if lost in the velvety haze of a trance. Galadriel and Gandalf followed silently behind. The three of them strode out into the dark heart of the storm.

Elrond revelled in the feeling of the wind. It whipped through his hair and screamed in his ears, and he suddenly wished that he was not an elf, but something as light as a single leaf, able to be carried by the slightest breeze. He wished for freedom.

Rain poured down on the trio, soaking them to the bone. Galadriel didn't care. The icy wetness crept softly down her skin, as though it was trying to wash her body and all her worries away. She wanted to let it continue… she wanted serenity.

Gandalf was blind to all but the lightning. Those jagged, blinding flashes scarring the sky, sizzling with raw power. If ever one dared kiss a tree or shrub, its might would be awesome to behold, as flames arose to feed. He wanted that power.

The tempest rose to a whirling climax of wind and rain, pierced by shafts of lightning like swords of white flame. The three friends, caught in its midst, were powerless to stop it.

The wind roared to Elrond, demanding an answer to its summons.

The rain drenched Galadriel, every droplet whispering seductively to her.

The lightning challenged Gandalf, daring him to rival its might.

Their answers came, all three at once.

_Yes_.

There was a howl, a torrent, a flash…

…then nothing.


	2. The Spirits

**Chapter One: The Spirits**

Elrond awoke slowly, and in a near-conscious state, he was amazed to find that he felt no pain. Actually, he didn't feel much of anything. He seemed to be floating, drifting like a leaf on the surface of a still pool. Perfectly tranquil.

He opened his eyes, and let out a yelp of shock. He _was_ floating – not on water, but in the air. And where had his body gone? He scanned the ground below him, almost frantic. There was no sign of his body, nor those of his friends.

"_Galadriel?_" he called. His voice was like a calm summer breeze, soft and whispery. Like the wind that was sweeping around him, buffeting him back and forth.

"_Elrond?_"

The smooth, rippling voice seemed to be Galadriel's; it came from somewhere beneath him. Elrond glanced down, trying to steer himself toward the voice. It worked, but it took him a little while to get started. He'd have to get used to this feeling.

"_Where are you?_" he asked.

"_Down here. Where are you?_"

Elrond looked down, and saw his mother-in-law's face on the surface of a large puddle underneath him. The image shimmered under pale daylight and infrequent drips of water from above; the storm seemed to be over.

Galadriel looked confused and disoriented as she gazed skyward. "_What happened?_" she asked."_Where are you?_"

"_I'm right above you,_" Elrond replied calmly. "_Don't worry; I can't see myself either._"

"_How did I get here?_" Galadriel asked.

"_You got there the same way I got where I am,_" said her son-in-law. "_But I do wish I knew how._"

"_Where is Gandalf?_" inquired Galadriel.

"_I'm here,_" a low, crackly voice replied from nearby. "_In the flames._"

Elrond turned, and saw a tree that had been struck by lightning. Orange flames hissed and smoked around it. And in the fire was Gandalf's face.

"_What happened?_" he asked. "_Where are you?_"

"_I'm in the wind, and Galadriel is in a pool just below me,_" said Elrond. "_And I think I might just know what happened here._"

"_What?_" chorused his friends' voices.

"_Somehow, I believe we have all become the essence of our Rings of Power,_" Elrond replied. "_Wind, water and fire._"

"_What does this mean?_" Galadriel wondered.

"_I don't know._" Elrond sighed like a rush of wind through leafy trees. "_But people are going to wonder about our whereabouts when our bodies are nowhere to be found._"

"_You're right,_"Galadriel agreed. "_But how will we ever explain this?_"

Elrond thought for a moment, and then slipped deftly into a passing breeze. "_I'll be right back._"

----

Elrond sailed invisibly through the Last Homely House, calling his daughter's name in the voice of the wind. Where could Arwen be? He glanced through doors and windows as he passed them, seeing no sign of his youngest child.

But at last he spotted her in her bedroom, reading by sunlight. Slipping in through the half-open door, Elrond swirled gracefully around his daughter's head. "_Hello, Arwen._"

She flinched, staring around in alarm. "Who's there? Where are you?" she demanded.

"_It's your father,_" Elrond replied softly in her ear. "_I'm right beside you._"

"Prove it." Arwen's eyebrows drew together as she stared sceptically in the direction of the voice.

"_How?_" Elrond queried, hovering next to her ear.

"Say something only my father would know. What would you have named me if I had been male?"

"_I had wanted to call you Arion,_" Elrond replied, "_but your mother had her heart set on calling you Galadhon, after her grandfather. So that's what it would have been._"

Arwen nodded understandingly, her expression relaxing. "Why can't I see you?"

"_It's a long story._ _To make things simple, I went out in the storm last night, and I've somehow become some sort of wind-spirit. That's why I'm invisible._"

Arwen considered this. "Maybe if you moved behind a curtain, I could see you."

Elrond obediently slipped behind the gauzy, lilac-coloured drapery by the window, glancing down as his body was shown standing there. He was quite relieved to see that he was (apparently) fully clothed, in the long nightshirt he had been wearing before the unnatural incident.

Arwen smiled. "There you are. But is it only you? Have others been affected?"

"_I'm afraid so. Gandalf and Galadriel have been transformed as well. They are spirits of fire and water._"

"Where are they?"

"_They're outside,_" said Elrond, emerging softly from behind the curtain. "_I'll take you there. Just follow the wind. Oh – and bring a candle and basin._"

----

Arwen hurried after her father, following the sound of his voice on the wind. An unlit candle was in her left hand, an empty bowl in her right. She rushed gracefully over silver-edged grass, wet and glimmering from the rain.

"_Just here,_" Elrond told her, swooping down to where a toppled tree was still flaming. The ground below was riddled with pools of rainwater. Arwen was careful not to step in any.

"_Hello, Arwen,_" said a calm voice from a puddle by her feet.

Arwen gasped as she looked down. There was a face in the water!

"Grandmother?" she breathed in disbelief.

"_Yes,_" Galadriel replied, smiling up at her. "_Is Elrond here?_"

"_Of course,_" Elrond spoke up, gusting by her in a sudden strong wind. "_Gandalf?_"

"_I'm still here,_" said the fire-spirit's voice from the blazing tree. If Arwen looked hard enough, she could see a face flickering in the fire. Gandalf's face.

"How is this possible?" she wondered aloud.

"_We don't know,_" Elrond told her. "_But that's not why I brought you here. Have you heard of anyone wondering where the three of us are?_"

"No," Arwen replied. "It's just past dawn; no-one is awake yet but me. Or rather, us."

"_Good,_" said Galadriel. "_It's best we keep it that way._"

"But sooner or later people are going to wonder where you all are," Arwen told him. "Elves and wizards don't simply vanish into thin air."

"_Elrond did,_" Gandalf reminded her. "_But I see your point. Someone else will find out sooner or later._"

"_Not if we don't give them reason to,_" said Elrond mysteriously.

"What do you mean?" asked Arwen.

"_I mean,_" the wind-spirit replied, "_that if everyone were to believe that the three of us were away on an excursion of sorts, they would have no reason to worry about where our bodies have disappeared to._"

"_You want her to tell everyone a pack of lies?_" cried Gandalf.

"_She won't be lying,_" Elrond smiled. "_In fact, she will be telling the absolute truth._"

Galadriel frowned. "_Where will we be going?_"

"_Do you remember what I mentioned last night, just before this occurred?_"

Gandalf caught on at once. "_You can't be serious!_"

"_I am very serious,_" Elrond told him.

"_The three of us, taking on a ship full of raving, drunken pirates who kill for money and pleasure?_"

"_You catch on quickly._"

Her curiosity piqued, Galadriel couldn't help but ask, "_How do you plan to accomplish all of this?_"

"_You'll see. Arwen, I think we should take this inside, please…_"

Arwen nodded, dipping the bowl into Galadriel's pool and holding the candlewick to Gandalf's flames. Both moved gracefully into their transportation devices. Arwen carried her two comrades carefully, and Elrond breezed along ahead of her.

Entering her bedroom, Arwen set the bowl and candle down gently on her desk and sat there, gazing at the objects in puzzlement. She could feel her father behind her, playing with her hair.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to look over her shoulder and not disturb him at the same time.

"_I'm braiding your hair,_" Elrond answered, busily twining her dark locks. "_You should wear it up more often._"

Arwen laughed. "Don't bring it anywhere near Gandalf."

"_I would never dream of harming you,_" said Gandalf's voice from the candle flame, in a mockingly offended tone.

"What were you saying about fighting Corsairs?" Arwen asked her father.

"_I have a plan to intercept the Corsairs before they get anywhere near Mithlond,_" the wind-spirit replied. "_Perhaps before they get to Anfalas._"

"_How?_" asked Galadriel's voice from the bowl of rainwater.

Elrond smiled invisibly. "_Listen carefully…_"

----

"I hope you know what you're doing, Ada," said Arwen, as she crouched nervously on the north bank of the river Bruinen. Gandalf's candle and Galadriel's bowl were in her hands.

"_I know what I'm doing,_" Elrond reassured his daughter, swirling around in an eddy of wind. "_Galadriel, Gandalf, are you ready?_"

"_Yes,_" two voices replied.

"_Very well,_" said Elrond. "_Arwen, if you would be so kind…_"

Arwen nodded, picking up the bowl and tipping its contents into the river. Holding up the candle she wondered aloud, "But what will happen when…"

"_I'm sure I'll be fine,_" said Gandalf calmly from the small flame. "_Go on._"

Rather hesitantly, Arwen blew out the candle. She felt a rather large twinge of guilt, but was reassured when the fire-spirit's voice whispered to her, seemingly from nowhere, "_Don't worry; I'm all right._"

"Where ae you?" she asked.

"_Somewhere in the embers of the earth,_" Gandalf replied. "_Wherever there is fire, that is where I will be… wherever I choose._"

Arwen nodded, rising and turning to return to Rivendell. "Good luck, all of you."

"_I love you, Arwen,_" whispered her father and grandmother simultaneously.

"I love you, too," Arwen replied. "How long will you be gone?"

"_As long as it takes,_" Elrond sighed. "_I'll miss you._"

"So will I," said Arwen sadly.

Then she felt invisible arms wrap tenderly around her, and instinctively moved to hug her father back. But when she did, she felt nothing.

"Where are you?" she asked. "I can't feel you."

"_Try again,_" he told her. "_Try to see me in your mind._"

She did, and was rewarded with the feeling of Elrond's robe soft against her fingers, his back and shoulders muscular beneath. She sighed. "There you are."

Elrond moved slowly away, lingering for a few moments with his hand in hers. Then he departed, whispering, "_Goodbye, Arwen._"

"Goodbye, Ada," she replied softly.


	3. The Captive

**Chapter Two: The Captive**

Elrond glided swiftly in a south-westerly wind, following the course of the Bruinen as it approached the Angle. There it would become the Gwathlo, or Greyflood, and empty in the Great Sea, Belegaer.

"_How are you?_" he called down to his mother-in-law, who could be seen swimming an elegant backstroke in the river.

"_I'm fine,_" she replied. "_And yourself?_"

"_Never better. Where do you think Gandalf is?_"

"_I don't know. He may already be on the ship, perhaps waiting in the galley fire…_"

"_That could be,_" Elrond nodded. "_Let's not keep him waiting longer than necessary._"

Mother- and son-in-law plunged forward, surging through wind and waves to reach the Sea as quickly as possible.

The sun was climbing slowly in the clear sky when the Bruinen became the Gwathlo, and sped down to the western shores of Middle-earth. Neither of the two friends were tired from their journey; on the contrary, every swell of wind and water gave them new energy. In no time at all, it seemed, they were tumbling down to Belegaer.

"_Do you see anything?_" Galadriel called up to her companion.

"_No,_" he replied. "_But they'll be here soon enough._"

"_We won't let them anywhere near Mithlond,_" said Galadriel resolutely. "_Come._"

They moved southward faster than the elements could carry them, and found the ship in a matter of minutes. Its black sails reared against the sky like a threatening storm as it sliced through the water; the muffled throb of a drum reached them, growing ever louder.

The ship was teeming with Corsairs; every one looked drunk and rowdy. Most of them were broad of build, but a few were more slender and wiry. They all had grimy clothing and thick, dark, tangled hair.

"_I'm going aboard to look for Gandalf,_" Elrond called down to Galadriel, hovering in the air as the ship approached. "_Are you coming?_"

"_I'll wait here,_" the water-spirit replied.

"_As you wish._"

Elrond slipped silently through the ship's main deck. He checked the galley first, as it was the most obvious place to have a fire. Sure enough, Gandalf was sitting patiently in the embers of a cooking oven.

"_There you are,_" smiled the fire-spirit. "_Is Galadriel with you?_"

"_She's in the ocean,_" Elrond replied. "_How long have you been here?_"

"_Not long,_" said Gandalf. "_Did you just arrive?_"

"_Yes,_" Elrond nodded. "_I should tell Galadriel I found you. If you'll excuse me…_"

"_Wait,_" the fire-spirit spoke up insistently. "_Before you leave the ship, be sure to look in the middle deck. There is something there that may interest you._"

Elrond departed without another word. He slid through a crack in the floor, and found himself in a dim chamber. The noise of the Corsairs two floors above him were extremely muffled, and now a much sweeter sound hailed him… a song.

Elrond frowned in confusion. The song didn't sound at all like a raucous sea shanty or drinking song. It was an eerie melody, one whose words he couldn't quite distinguish. It seemed to be coming from behind a dark door at the far side of the room.

Carefully the wind-spirit advanced. As he moved closer to the door, the song became clearer. It was a soft tenor voice, singing sadly in Elvish:

"_Ai Elbereth, tiro am nin!_

_Im olvne na aglar lle._

_Tiro ten' nin ned nûr fuin;_

_Im neumen ned i mornië._"

Elrond felt on the verge of tears as he listened to the mournful lament. '_Oh Elbereth, look upon me! I am lost to your light. Look for me in the deep night; I am trapped in the darkness._' Who could be singing such a song?

Whoever was behind that door, Elrond vowed to protect. He swept forward, hovering next to a tiny crack below the door, through which no light was streaming. The soft voice floated through it, sobbing now.

"_Hello?_" Elrond whispered. "_Who's there?_"

The sobs ended abruptly in a gasp.

"Who are you?" a quavery voice demanded. "What do you want?"

"_I'm a friend,_" the wind-spirit replied gently. "_I'm here to help you. May I come in?_"

"The door's locked," the voice told him. "No-one can get in, and I can't get out."

"_You'd be surprised where I can get in and out of,_" Elrond told the voice.

There was a pause, and then the voice replied, "All right. If you think you can, come in."

Elrond obediently slid through the crack, and felt his body being compressed in a most uncomfortable manner as he did. Emerging on the other side, he was engulfed by thick, musty blackness.

Wherever he was smelled strongly of mould. Seeing by a shred of light from the crack, he found himself in a small, cell-like room, no bigger than a cupboard.

And in the tiny room was a young boy.

From what Elrond could see, he looked barely older than five or six, but something about him hinted he was older. His straight, dark hair was cropped roughly and close to his ears, which ended in small points.

The child's eyes were in shadow, as he kept his head downcast. He stiffened as Elrond moved carefully around him, feeling his way through the chamber. "Where are you?"

"_I'm right beside you,_" Elrond whispered soothingly in the child's ear. "_What is your name, little one?_"

"I'm Daeglir," the boy replied. "Who are you?"

"_My name is Elrond,_" he answered.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," said Daeglir. Then he frowned. "Are you really there? All I can feel is the wind."

"_That's because I **am **the wind,_" Elrond told him. "_Or a wind-spirit. But I was once an elf._"

"How'd you become a spirit?"

Elrond laughed. "_That's a strange tale. I went out in a terrible storm one night with two very close friends of mine, and suddenly everything went black. When I awoke, I was a spirit, floating in the wind._"

"What happened to your friends?" Daeglir asked, awed.

"_They, too, became spirits. But they're waiting for me, so I must leave you for a while. But I promise I'll come back._"

Daeglir nodded. "I can wait."

"_Good lad. I won't be long._"

----

Elrond hurried back up to the main deck, whooshing down over the ship's port side. Galadriel rose in a small wave to greet him. "_What kept you?_"

"_I was listening to something Gandalf said,_" Elrond replied. "_In the middle deck, just below the galley, a boy called Daeglir is locked in a cupboard._"

Galadriel gasped in horror. "_What did you do?_"

"_Daeglir was singing to Elbereth about how he was trapped. I went in and spoke with him, telling him I was a friend, and that I was there to help him. I also told him I'd be back shortly, so I don't want to keep him waiting._"

"_I'm coming with you,_" said his mother-in-law decisively. "_There must be some sort of leak in this ship._"

"_Very well,_" Elrond nodded. "_I'll help you look._"

"_No,_" Galadriel dissented. "_You go straight to Daeglir. I'll be fine on my own._"

"_Are you sure?_"

"_Don't you trust me?_"

The wind-spirit laughed. "_All right, then. I'll see you shortly._"

Elrond quickly re-entered the ship, heading straight for where he'd last seen his young friend. Slipping deftly through the infinitesimal gap under the door, he called, "_I'm back, Daeglir._"

"Are your friends here?" asked the boy.

"_Not yet, but they're looking for a way to get in,_" Elrond replied"_They're not quite as mobile as I am._"

"How will I know they're here?"

"_If you feel water entering, then one of my friends will certainly be here. And the other will arrive if you see embers or fire._"

"Then I won't see the second one," said Daeglir sadly.

"_Why not?_"

There was a pause, and then the boy replied in a near-whisper, "I can't see anything. I never could."

"_You're blind?_" cried Elrond. "_Was it the Corsairs?_"

"I've never been able to see," shrugged the boy. "I don't know how."

"_You poor child,_" the wind-spirit whispered sadly. "_How long have you been here?_"

"Where's 'here'?"

"_You're locked in a cupboard,_" Elrond explained, "_on a Corsair ship._"

"Well, wherever I am, I've been here for as long as I can remember," said Daeglir. "It feels like years."

"_Well, I'm going to do anything that I can to get you away from here and back to your family,_" Elrond vowed.

"I don't remember much about before," the child sighed dejectedly.

"_What do you remember?_"

"A woman," Daeglir replied after a long, pensive pause. "I think she was my mother; I remember her holding me and singing. And I think there was my father, too. I remember him kissing me… it felt funny, like he had a beard. But elves don't, do they?"

Elrond was silent as he drank this in. But after a moment he gasped, "_There was one – a good friend of mine, named Cirdan. Does that name mean anything to you?_"

"Yes!" cried the boy. "I remember that name. It sounds right. It makes me think of the Sea."

"_Cirdan lived very close to the Sea,_" said Elrond. "_In a haven called Mithlond—_"

But he broke off in mid-sentence. He suddenly remembered – they were on their way to that very haven! Things were looking up.

But why would the Corsairs bring Daeglir back to where he came from?

The answer came in an instant – _ransom_. Of course. The pirates were going to try to exchange the child for money. And if Cirdan refused… Elrond shuddered. He couldn't bear thinking about it.

"What's wrong?" asked Daeglir.

"_Nothing,_" the wind-spirit lied. "_I wonder what's keeping Galadriel?_"

"Who's Galadriel? One of your friends?"

"_Yes. She became a water-spirit; she's my mother-in-law._"

"I've heard the Corsairs talking about water-spirits," said the boy in a tremulous voice. "They said they were called sirens, and that they drowned sailors by singing and making the ships run into rocks."

"_Galadriel would never do that,_" Elrond assured his friend. "_But you've just given me a wonderful idea, Daeglir._"

"I have?"

"_Oh, yes. Would you mind if I went to look for Galadriel? I'll try to hurry._"

"You don't need to hurry too much," said Daeglir. "I'm used to being alone. But your mother-in-law might be in trouble, so I guess you'd better go."

Elrond nodded, his heart sinking with this newfound notion. What if Galadriel _was_ in trouble? He slipped quickly out of the cupboard and away.


	4. Gossip and Ghosts

**Chapter Three: Gossip and Ghosts**

Galadriel gazed around her in exasperation. The glass walls of her prison allowed her to see her surroundings, but it kept her from moving very far. Silently she cursed her own carelessness; if she hadn't let her guard down, she would never have been trapped in this jar.

She had been quietly inspecting the ship's barnacle-crusted hull, looking for any slight leak, when suddenly a bucket had scooped her up. Unable to move fast enough to escape, Galadriel had been hauled aboard the ship and had a pumice stone dropped on her head.

After being subject to a jolting round of deck-scrubbing, the water-spirit had been promptly dumped back into the ocean. She had found her way into the water supply down in the hold, only to be ladled up again and taken to the galley by the cook, who had poured her into the jar she now occupied.

And speaking of the cook, there he was now.

The fat Corsair banged into the room, his ample girth something of a hindrance, owing to the door that was slightly narrower than he was. His tunic was stained with splatters of food, if the word did justice to the slop the man was now dumping into a pot on the stove.

Even through the glass of her jar, Galadriel caught the stuff's foul stench, and wished fervently that she had no nose. The Corsair, however, seemed to be enjoying the smell; he hummed tunelessly as he stirred the lumpy brown gunk in the pot with an already grimy spoon.

The cook scraped up bowlfuls of the brown stuff, still humming as he arranged them on a large tray. Then he bustled out again, the door slamming shut behind him. Galadriel sighed in relief as a voice reached her ears, slightly muffled through the glass.

"_Merciful Valar! Did something die in here?_"

"_That, Elrond, is what the Corsairs call 'dinner',_" Galadriel replied wryly.

"_Where are you?_" Elrond called, staring this way and that.

"_I'm over here,_" she replied. "_In the jar on the table._"

"_Thank goodness,_" the wind-spirit sighed. "_I was wondering what was keeping you._"

"_Can you get me out of here?_" asked Galadriel.

"_I'm not sure,_" said Elrond nervously, glancing down. A moment later he brightened. "_This is perfect!_"

"_How is my imprisonment a good thing?_" Galadriel demanded.

"_Because my new friend Daeglir is just below us,_" Elrond told her, his face breaking into an invisible smile. "_And he dearly wants to meet you._"

"_And how will I meet him in here?_"

"_You'll see,_" Elrond smirked.

He moved swiftly to the opposite side of the jar, and pushed. As the vessel teetered on the edge of the table, Galadriel cried, "_I hope you know what you're doing…_"

"_Trust me,_" said the wind-spirit blandly, giving the dangerously-positioned jar a final nudge. "_I know _exactly_ what I'm doing._"

"_**ELROND!**_" Galadriel shrieked as she fell.

Elrond's trajectory had been perfect; as the jar hit the floor and shattered, sending tiny shards of glass flying, most of its contents fell through a crack in the floor just where the jar had struck. Galadriel fell with the water, now inside a droplet.

She hit the floor below, splashing down into the puddle that had formed there. Elrond breezed down to join her, saying, "_Are you all right?_"

"_I've been better,_" she replied. "_Where is Daeglir?_"

"_Over there._" Elrond pushed the puddle of water with a slight gust of wind, nudging it toward Daeglir's tiny prison. "_I'll try to lead you._"

He propelled the water forward, with Galadriel edging along within it. It didn't take them long to reach the cupboard and slide through the gap.

"_Daeglir, I'm back,_" Elrond called. "_I've brought my mother-in-law, Lady Galadriel._"

"Pleased to meet you, my lady," said the boy politely.

"_The pleasure is all mine, Daeglir._"

"_Well, now that we all know each other,_" said Elrond, "_I'll tell both of you my plan for Daeglir's escape_…"

"_How do you expect to accomplish this, Elrond?_" asked Galadriel.

"_With time, patience and co-operation, as well as luck,_" the wind-spirit replied. "_The Corsairs must brag and gossip about their crewmates a lot; I'm sure I'll be able to use something to our advantage._"

"_And where do I fit into this?_"

"_Daeglir told me a little about the Corsairs' understanding of water-spirits,_" said Elrond calmly. "_He said that the pirates believe they are malevolent creatures who drown sailors by seducing them with their music. I think you could do the same._"

"_And Gandalf?_"

"_We'll see._"

Galadriel nodded. "_But how exactly will I get out of here? I can't ride the wind like you can; I'm a captive to whatever body of water I choose to occupy._"

"The cook should be bringing me my scraps soon," Daeglir told her. "I could put you into my water glass, and wait for it to be cleaned up. All of what I don't eat or drink gets dumped into the sea."

"_An excellent idea,_" the water-spirit smiled.

"_I'd best pass this along to Gandalf,_" Elrond spoke up. "_If you'll excuse me…_" He slid through the crack under the door, just moments before footsteps sounded outside.

A brawny Corsair wrenched the cupboard door open, and bright light streamed in. The cupboard was revealed to be short and very narrow; Daeglir was huddled up in a corner. The Corsair thrust a plate of bread and a cup of water toward the boy, who accepted them warily.

As he moved into the light, Elrond suppressed a gasp of shock. Daeglir's body was skeletally thin, his ribs showing clearly through his threadbare shirt. And where his eyes should have been, there was nothing but skin stretched over two slight dents below the eyebrows.

He groped around until his hands found the rims of both plate and cup, pulling them with him as he retreated into the shadows. The Corsair grunted and jerked his head, and slammed the cupboard door behind him as he stalked away.

Galadriel sighed in relief as Daeglir carefully scooped her droplet up and let it slide off his fingertip into the cup.

"_Thank you,_" she smiled up at him. "_That feels much better. But you poor boy… it's no wonder you can't see. Were you born this way?_"

"What way?" Daeglir frowned, his eyeless brows furrowing. "I don't know what you mean."

"_Daeglir, you have no eyes,_" the water-spirit explained as gently as possible. "_Has no-one told you? Your parents, other relatives…?_"

"No," said the child sadly. "I barely remember anyone that could have been family. I've been here on this ship for as long as I can remember."

"_But that's six years at least!_" Galadriel gasped. "_How on earth did you survive? The Corsairs—_"

"They didn't really help matters," Daeglir replied sullenly. "I've lived off of bread and water for Eru knows how long."

Galadriel made a silent vow to help the poor boy any way she could.

----

"_Gandalf,_" Elrond called out, gusting up into the galley and hovering near the oven. "_I have a plan._"

"_Tell it,_" said the fire-spirit from the embers.

Elrond did, as Gandalf listened patiently. "_Will I be able to assist you in some way?_"

"_I'm sure I'll find something for you to do,_" the wind-spirit assured his friend.

"_Good,_" said Gandalf. "_This is growing tiresome._"

----

Elrond glided smoothly through the ship, unnoticed by all. He floated inconspicuously above the Corsairs in their barracks as they talked loudly and contemptuously among themselves. Most of their conversation seemed to be about the behaviour of former crewmates; Elrond eavesdropped carefully on a group in the far corner of the room.

"Remember ol' Blackfinger?" one Corsair asked another as he took a swig from a mug of ale. Much of the stuff slopped down his chin and got in his tangled beard.

"Yeah, I remember him," the other replied haughtily. "Stupid lump o' lard. He never could spell to save his worthless hide, not even his own name."

"Why'd they call him Blackfinger?" spoke up another pirate.

"'Cos he never used a pen when he wrote," the first answered. "Used to dip his finger in the inkpot an' write that way."

Elrond hung over that conversation like a cloud over a storm. This was proving useful.

"So how'd he die?" asked the second

"Some say he drowned when he fell outta the ship durin' a storm two years ago," said the first Corsair, lowering his voice ominously. "I think he was pushed."

"Who did it?" asked yet another man.

"Dead men tell no tales," the first Corsair replied. "Not that you could trust a word he said."

Elrond had heard enough to make a plan. He exited softly, with a whispered, "_Thank you, gentlemen._"

"Whazzat?" cried a Corsair, who had obviously heard. "I heard somethin' – coulda bin Blackfinger!"

"Blackfinger's dead an' gone," muttered another. "Sleepin' with the fishes."

_Not if I have anything to do with it,_ Elrond thought with an invisible smirk.

Galadriel swam swiftly through the briny waves of the sea, where she had been poured unceremoniously from Daeglir's cup of water. All she had to do now was wait for word from her son-in-law. She heard Elrond arrive in a rush of wind.

"_I've spoken to Gandalf, and I'm about to begin phase one of our plan,_" he told her in a triumphant voice.

"_Excellent,_" Galadriel smiled. "_What should I do?_"

"_I'll let you know when the time's right. It should be soon._"

"_Good. I'll be waiting._"

Elrond flew back into the ship, breezing through many rooms in his search for supplies he would need for his plan. Parchment and ink… parchment and ink… didn't _anyone _write things down?

Aha! The wind-spirit beamed as he spotted a ship's log lying open on a desk, beside a pen and an open inkwell. Well, he certainly wouldn't need the pen.

Elrond carefully turned to a blank page in the log, ripping it out and setting it aside. He dipped his forefinger in the inkpot, wondering what kind of message a deceased pirate would write to his fellow companions.

Inspiration struck him, and he began to write with his finger, making sure his spelling and grammar were dreadful. He added a few senseless blobs of ink for good measure, and smiled at his finished work:

_Death weights for al whoo remayn heer. Bewear of the sirens – they drownd me. Their cumming back four mor. Don't folow the muzick._

_Blakkfingur_


	5. Escape

**Chapter Four: Escape**

There, Elrond nodded. That seemed good; now to make sure the Corsairs saw it.

He waited for the ink to dry, rolled up the parchment, then carefully picked it up and returned to the barracks. Hovering several feet above the Corsairs, Elrond unrolled the parchment slowly.

One of the men suddenly looked up and gave a shout, pointing a forefinger toward the (apparently) floating parchment. "Look! Up there!"

Several others followed his gaze, and gasped. "What the—"

"It's ol' Blackfinger!" wailed one. "He's come to haunt us!"

"Don't be stupid, it's just a message!" another rebuked him.

"So what's it say, huh?" yet another demanded.

Elrond let the parchment drop as he left the room, the Corsairs' voices floating into his ears.

"'Death waits for all who… remain… here… beware the sirens, they… drowned me. They're… coming back for more. Don't follow the… music.' It's signed by him!"

Elrond laughed to himself as he sped away to find Galadriel.

"_It's time!_" Elrond called out to his mother-in-law, tumbling down toward the sea on a lazy current. "_Start singing!_"

"_Singing what?_"

"_Something to grab those Corsairs' hearts and make them forget how to sail the ship,_" Elrond answered. "_That's what sirens do._"

Galadriel nodded, lifting her voice in an eerie melody:

"_Ai tula dan na i'Aear_

_Lasto i lind en i Aerwin_

_Tula dan, ú-rada lletan_

_Quorin ned i lindale…_"

"_Keep going,_" Elrond told her. "_I'll warn Daeglir._"

He darted aboard the ship, hurrying to Daeglir's cupboard. Slipping inside, he curled around the boy's head. "_It's me._"

"I'm glad you're back, sir," said the boy. "What's going on? I can hear music…"

"_Don't be alarmed,_" Elrond said calmly. "_It's just Galadriel pretending to be a siren._"

Daeglir sighed in relief. "That's good news. But what'll happen to the Corsairs?"

"_Hopefully, they'll believe that she _is_ a siren, be captivated by her beautiful singing and become so lovestruck that they'll forget how to steer the ship._"

"Is that the plan?"

Elrond nodded. "_Yes. Now all you have to do is wait. I'm going to investigate._"

"Good luck," Daeglir called after his friend.

Elrond swept through the ship and, sure enough, all of the Corsairs were swaggering over the deck, talking in slurred voices and gazing around them with glazed eyes. They gathered at the prow, where Galadriel danced through the water, still singing.

The wind-spirit beamed; this was perfect. No-one was manning the tiller. But he soon would be.

Grasping two of the wheel's eight protruding knobs in his unseen hands, Elrond turned the tiller to the left. The ship was headed more or less straight for the shore, and he didn't want that; they had a ways to go yet.

The Corsairs were blissfully unaware of their altered course; all they were concerned about was Galadriel. Some of them were climbing up on the rail, attempting to jump from the ship and into the water. And a few of them succeeded.

Galadriel watched the pirates plunge one after another into the sea and thought, _Good riddance. No-one should go unpunished for imprisoning an innocent child._

Back on the ship, Elrond was learning quickly how to steer. He clung resolutely to the tiller as the wind tried to pull him away time and time again.

The sun was sinking in the sky, and shadows were spreading across the crimsoned sea. A dark smudge in the distance might have been the Grey Havens; he couldn't be sure at this distance.

Galadriel was still singing, and more and more of the dazed Corsairs were leaving the ship; Elrond's job was increasingly easy, as there were less and less pirates aboard who might snap out of their trancelike state and interfere.

But Galadriel's distant voice sounded as though it was growing tired. Elrond glanced around him, looking for something to hold the tiller in place.

There was a rope lying carelessly on the deck, just beyond his reach; he grasped at it as he tried not to let go of the tiller.

Blast it! He couldn't quite reach… his invisible fingers scrabbled uselessly at the air, just inches from the coiled cord. A little further… further… _yes!_

Elrond snatched up the rope, tying the wheel tightly in place. It creaked slightly in the wind, but remained steady. Satisfied, the wind-spirit hurried away to check on Daeglir; the boy was still locked in his cupboard belowdecks.

"_Are you all right, Daeglir?_" he asked, slipping softly through the crack beneath the cupboard door.

"I'm fine," the child replied. "Are you?"

"_Yes. I just came to check on you._"

"Alright… how are your friends?"

"_Galadriel seems to be getting tired,_" Elrond said nervously. "_I'm not very sure about Gandalf._"

"You'd better check on him, too," Daeglir told him.

Elrond nodded, but lingered for a moment longer. "_Can you swim?_"

"I never tried," Daeglir replied honestly. "Why?"

Elrond cursed silently. "_My newest plan involves getting you off of the ship and into the water. And if you can't swim…_"

"What about Lady Galadriel?" asked the boy. "Can't she hold me up or something?"

The wind-spirit considered this. "_She might be able to; she's strong, and I'm willing to bet that you're extremely light. We could try._"

Without further ado, he whooshed up to the galley again.

"_Gandalf! Gandalf!_"

"_I'm here,_" Gandalf replied calmly from the oven embers. "_Is something wrong?_"

"_I think I've found something for you to do,_" Elrond told him. "_Galadriel's getting tired, and I doubt she'll be able to hold the Corsairs in check for much longer, so—_"

He broke off as a faint but angry voice rang out from above them. "What the–? Who tied up the tiller?"

"_Oh dear,_" Gandalf murmured. "_What is it you wanted me to do?_"

"_Set the ship ablaze,_" Elrond replied. "_Send the Corsairs to the depths._"

"_What about Daeglir?_"

"_Galadriel and I can help him._"

"_He is locked in a cupboard, Elrond. How will he get out?_"

Elrond fell silent. He hadn't thought of that. But he brightened as a notion dawned on him.

"_If the Corsairs cared enough about ransom, they would want to keep Daeglir alive for as long as possible. It stands to reason that they'd try not to let him be harmed, does it not?_"

"_You have a point,_" nodded the fire-spirit. "_Very well – get to work. Scatter the embers around the galley._"

Elrond nodded, flinging the oven door wide with a gust of wind and throwing embers left and right. Flames soon filled the room; the wind-spirit escaped through the hole in the floor he had used to enter.

He rushed back into Daeglir's cupboard, where the boy was whimpering in fear. "I can smell smoke. The ship is burning!"

"_I know,_" said Elrond. "_If I'm right, some Corsair is going to be here at any moment to get you out of here._"

"How do you know?" asked the boy fearfully.

"_Because they have a reason for keeping you alive,_" said Elrond. "_Ah, there he is…_" A drumming of footsteps had reached his keen ears.

A moment later the cupboard door rattled and burst open. A brawny Corsair scooped up the child and hurried away; Elrond sailed along at his heels. They hurried up to the main deck, where the Corsair lowered himself and the child he carried into a longboat.

"Now, don't you even _think _about trying to escape," the pirate snarled as he picked up an oar and began to row awkwardly with one hand. "You're going nowhere but down if you fall out."

"_I wouldn't say that,_" whispered two calm voices from the sky and sea.

The Corsair yelped in shock, promptly dropping the oar into the water. "I'm hearin' things! Something's messed with me head!"

"_There's no denying that,_" said the voice in the wind. "_Whatever would possess a man to incarcerate an innocent child?_"

"I never in-car-cer-ated nothin'!" the Corsair yelled. "We just found the kid an' kept him safe, see? An' now I'm headed to give him back to his mummy!"

"_Yes, in exchange for gold coins,_" muttered a contemptuous voice in the water.

"Well, yeah, but at least he's alive, ain't he?"

The wind's voice gave a scornful laugh. "_Barely alive, no thanks to you. If it hadn't been for our timely intervention – the message I wrote, and the siren you heard…_"

"Wait a sec– are you Blackfinger, then?" the Corsair frowned.

"_That is not one of my titles, though I have a few,_" the voice in the air replied.

The Corsair's thick eyebrows furrowed as he puzzled over this. "So was that siren the real thing?"

"_You flatter me,_" said the voice in the water.

"This is mad," the Corsair muttered, his eyes crossing in confusion. "All of it…"

"_Well, this is the first sign of madness, isn't it?_" said the voice in the wind brightly. "_Hearing voices that you can't see… unless, of course, you're friends with them._"

Daeglir smirked, obviously trying to stifle a giggle. The Corsair didn't see it, however; he was too busy shoving the child off of his lap. He stood up, and the little boat wobbled dangerously.

"_I really don't advise you to do that,_" said Galadriel warningly.

"I don't care about what you think!" the man yelled, as the vessel continued to rock. "You're nothin'! You're just a voice in my head! I'm getting' outta—_aaaggghhh!_"

He toppled sideways and fell with a great splash into the sea. He surfaced spluttering and struggling to stay afloat, a little way away from the capsized boat Daeglir was now clinging desperately to.

Elrond hastily covered the child's ears, cringing at the stream of curses coming from the floundering pirate's mouth. Choking and gasping, the man sank under the water with a burst of desperate bubbles. He didn't come up again.

Elrond shuddered as he helped Galadriel turn the longboat upright. Daeglir scrambled into it, his wet body shaking with cold.

"What an awful way to die," the boy muttered.

"_Dreadful,_" Elrond agreed. "_Now, let's get you back home._"

"_I wonder where Gandalf is?_" Galadriel inquired.

"_I didn't see him on the ship,_" said Elrond. "_But I'm sure he's all right, wherever he is. Let's get moving._"

Guided by Elrond's breezes and Galadriel's waves, the little boat made its way slowly toward the haven on the dark horizon.


	6. The Return

**Chapter Five: The Return**

Aeleth of Mithlond sat silently at the desk in her study, gazing out the open window at the dark sea beyond her home. The wavy silver hair that cascaded over her pointed ears blew in the wind, and she shivered slightly.

"Aeleth?" said a voice behind her.

She turned, seeing that her father had entered the room. He carried a plate of food and a goblet of wine; she turned away as he entered the pool of light cast by the lamp on her desk.

Lord Cirdan's hair was as silver as his daughter's, as well as his neatly-trimmed beard. Their eyes were the same bright turquoise, and they even shared the same smile, so the elves of the Grey Havens said.

"Ada," Aeleth smiled. "What brings you here at such an hour?"

"I'm concerned about you," said Cirdan quietly, moving to his daughter's side. "You haven't eaten for two days now."

Aeleth sighed. "Do you think I'll ever see my son again?"

Cirdan's eyes saddened. "How long has Daeglir been missing? It has to have been at least nine years—"

"Ten."

"Ten, then," nodded Cirdan. "My point is, you've waited so long, and heard no word of his whereabouts. It's high time to face the truth: he might not come back."

"I know," Aeleth whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "But is it a crime to hope?"

"No," said her father gently, caressing Aeleth's cheek with the back of his hand. "Of course it isn't. But – what in Arda…?"

The elf-lord stared intently at the lamp on the desk, his eyes riveted on the flame in the glass.

"What is it?" asked Aeleth, frowning.

Cirdan shook his head, replying, "Nothing… a trick of the light."

"What?"

"I thought I saw a face in the fire, that's all," the elf-lord shrugged, turning away. "It's gone now, if it was even there."

"_That's where you're wrong,_" said a voice.

Both elves gasped; Cirdan took a step back from the desk. "Who's there?"

"_An old friend,_" the voice replied.

"Show yourself," Cirdan ordered.

"_I have,_" said the voice calmly. "_Just keep looking into the fire._"

Wonderingly, Cirdan removed one of the glass panels of the lamp, so that the flame would be more clearly visible. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the face.

"Gandalf!" he gasped.

"_Yes,_" the fire-spirit nodded. "_I have a message for you, and your daughter._"

"What is it?" asked Aeleth, her eyes alight.

"_Your son Daeglir is safe and well,_" Gandalf smiled,"_and he is on his way here as I speak._"

Aeleth sobbed in joy. "I told you, Ada! It's never too late to hope!"

"Where is he?" cried Cirdan.

"_Go down to the docks,_" Gandalf instructed. "_You will see a small boat approaching the harbour; it holds the child. Elrond of Rivendell and Galadriel of Lothlorien are with him, though you may not see them at first. In fact, it's doubtful you will see Elrond at all._"

Cirdan replaced the glass panel of the lamp, picked it up and hurried outside, Aeleth at his heels.

Father and daughter rushed through the dim haven toward the docks, where the water was lit silver by the light of the full moon. Bobbing in the midst of the light was a small boat, just as Gandalf had said.

"_Just a bit further,_" Elrond reassured Daeglir, as the longboat drifted on the inky sea. "_You're nearly there._"

"_Look,_" cried Galadriel suddenly. "_Isn't that Cirdan on the dock?_"

"_Yes,_" said the wind-spirit elatedly. "_And his daughter is with him. Perhaps…_"

"Perhaps what?" asked Daeglir.

"_Perhaps she is the woman you remember from your past,_" Elrond beamed. "_She just might be your mother!_"

As the boat drew nearer to the pier, the dim figures of Cirdan and his daughter could more clearly be seen. The two elves could see the boat better as well.

"This is wonderful!" cried Aeleth. "My little boy is coming home… oh, Daeglir!"

Galadriel smiled when she heard Aeleth's voice. "_I think you were right about her, Elrond – she does sound as though she is Daeglir's mother. 'My little boy'…_"

Elrond nodded. "_Did you hear what she said to Cirdan? She called him 'Ada'… he could be your grandfather, Daeglir!_"

If the boy had had eyes, they would have been filled with tears of joy. "I have family!"

The boat reached the dock, and Aeleth instantly scooped Daeglir into her arms, crying with happiness. "Oh, _ion nin_…" (my son)

Daeglir's face was all smiles. "_Nana_…" (Mommy)

Cirdan beamed as he embraced his grandson. "How on earth did you get here?"

"Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel helped me," Daeglir replied. "They're here."

"Where?" asked the Lord of Mithlond.

"_I'm right here, sire,_" said Elrond calmly, breezing up to his friend.

"Lord Elrond?" cried the astonished elf.

"_The very same,_" the wind-spirit nodded.

"Where is Lady Galadriel, then?"

"_Down here, sire,_" the water-spirit called. "_I'm in the water._"

Cirdan knelt at the edge of the pier, staring down into the dark sea below him. The shimmering figure of Galadriel rippled gently, smiling up at him. "_Good evening, sire._"

"Good evening," the elf-lord said politely, trying not to sound too baffled. "How in Arda is this possible?"

"_That is a strange tale,_" Galadriel replied. "_It began with paperwork, and somewhere in the middle the three of us became spirits; as you've seen, the tale ends here._"

"_No, it doesn't,_" Elrond told her. "_The tale should end when we get our bodies back, and that hasn't happened yet._"

"_Do you know when it will?_" she countered.

"_Not exactly, no…_"

"_Hmm._"

Cirdan was about to speak, when there came an ominous increase in the speed of the wind. Thick black clouds were boiling in the sky, obscuring the moon and darkening the world. Icy raindrops splattered down onto the haven as lightning flickered not far off.

"Looks like this storm's going to be a big one," said Cirdan.

"_Brilliant,_" smiled Elrond.

"_That didn't sound at all sarcastic, if you were trying to,_" Gandalf told him.

"_I wasn't,_" Elrond replied, more loudly as the wind began to howl. "_I've been thinking – if it was a storm that made us spirits, perhaps another could change us back!_"

"_An interesting point,_" said Galadriel. "_Lord Cirdan, you had best get inside._"

Cirdan nodded as he got to his feet, and he and his kin hurried into the main building of the haven.

Elrond was tossed about in the air by wailing gales as the storm swelled steadily. He began concentrating on becoming his old self, regaining his body and being able to withstand the wrath of the tempest. He had had enough of freedom.

Galadriel rocked back and forth as waves flowed past, around and through her again and again. What she wanted most of all, right now, was to be able to climb out of the sea and seek shelter in Cirdan's haven; her so-called serenity had not been at all satisfying.

Gandalf hovered between worlds, watching and waiting for the right moment. He was certain that his true being belonged in a body of flesh and blood, not of heat and light. The lightning hadn't given him power; it had imprisoned him.

But now he saw his chance.

"_Get ready,_" he called to his friends. "_Our time is coming._"

On a sudden whim, Elrond slid into a wind that raged over the ocean. Galadriel was suspended just below him; Gandalf was gazing intently down from above, and counting. _Five, four, three, two..._

He struck.

The world went white.

Cirdan observed the blinding flash from his bedroom window. Shielding his eyes, he blinked to clear his vision after the light faded. What in Arda had just happened?

The storm seemed to be over, as if that bright light had suddenly ended it. Moonlight was trickling down from the clearing sky; it illuminated the three figures floating limply in the sea.

The elf leapt up from where he had been sitting at his desk, racing outside. He sprinted down to the pier, gasping in horror. The bodies of Elrond, Gandalf and Galadriel drifted slightly in the water, but somehow remained afloat, just near enough for him to reach.

And reach Cirdan did. He lay down on his front on the edge of the dock, stretching out his arms as far as they would go. He carefully drew all three friends to him, one at a time, and pulled them out onto the solid stone dock., praying all the while.

It took a short time for the elves and the wizard to recover their senses. All three stared around blearily as they sat up, exchanging curious glances with Cirdan and each other.

"We're back," were the first words spoken; they were uttered by Elrond. The half-elf pushed his soaking, windswept hair out of his eyes, climbing slowly (and unsteadily) to his feet.

"Argh…" Elrond cringed at the stiffness of his newly-regained body. "And just when I had gotten used to floating."

"I second that," added Galadriel, smiling as Cirdan helped her to stand. "Thank you, sire."

Elrond then helped Gandalf upright; the wizard looked very disgruntled as he wrung out his long beard. He scowled as the elf snickered at him, but didn't say anything.

Cirdan smiled at the three of them, his blue-green eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "It's good to see you all again," he said brightly, with a sideways glance at Elrond. "I wish to thank you all for returning my grandson to me. You gave both myself and my daughter, as well as Daeglir himself, the greatest gift anyone could give."

"I barely did anything," said Gandalf. "If you wish to thank anyone, then thank Elrond and Galadriel; they did all of the work."

"Don't be so modest," Cirdan chided the wizard.

"I wasn't," he insisted. "I was being honest."

"Whatever," Cirdan smiled. "Why don't we all go inside and dry off properly?"

All three friends willingly agreed to this.

After towelling off and changing into dry clothes lent to them by elves of Mithlond, the three Ring-keepers discussed their next move: to stay the rest of the night at the Grey Havens, or to return to Rivendell.

"You are more than welcome to spend the night here," Cirdan told them graciously. "I can show you some spare bedrooms, and I'll ready horses to bear you back to Imladris in the morning."

"Thank you, sire," they smiled.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

As dawn crept over the Havens, larks began their chorus to hail the sun. They soared gaily past the windows of three rooms, in which three good friends slumbered peacefully. It had been a long day.

Elrond stirred as a cool breeze flitted across his face. He blinked in the bright light of the newborn morning, smiling calmly as he spoke to the air.

"You won't get me this time," he told it with a grin. "I'm perfectly happy with my feet on the ground, thank you very much."

The wind only tugged teasingly at his hair in reply. The elf laughed and clad himself in a clean robe (wine-red, with gold embroidery along the cuffs), tidied his dark hair and strolled through Mithlond with a heart as light as a feather.

"Good morning, Elrond," a low voice greeted him as he left his bedroom.

Elrond turned and smiled at his mother-in-law. "You look lovely, Galadriel."

The Lady of Lothlorien was clad in a dress of snowy white, and embroidered along the hem and cuffs with designs in silver thread. Looking harder, Elrond saw that the shapes were swans in flight.

He opened his mouth to comment on this when Gandalf arrived, clothed simply in a smoke-hued robe, and leaning on his knobbly staff. The wizard's pale blue eyes twinkled as he smiled.

"Good morning, my lord… my lady. A beautiful day, is it not?"

"Lovely," they nodded.

"Did you sleep well?" Elrond asked conversationally.

"I did, thank you," Gandalf replied. "But I did find myself scolding the embers in the hearth when I woke up," he chuckled.

Elrond smirked. "I did the same thing to the wind that blew through my window. 'You won't get me this time'…"

All three friends laughed, turning as Cirdan hailed them cheerfully. "_Quel aur, mellyn nin!_" Good morning, my friends!

"Good morning, sire," the Ring-keepers replied.

The Lord of Mithlond strode calmly up to his comrades, his turquoise robe billowing out behind him. His eyes, which were the exact same color, sparkled in the sunlight.

"There are horses waiting for you in the stables," he said, "but I was hoping you'd join me for breakfast before your departure."

Nodding in acquiescence, the three friends followed the Lord of Mithlond to the main dining hall, which was nearly deserted save for two elves: Aeleth and Daeglir. Cirdan's daughter beamed at them, and her own child smiled at the sound of their voices.

The four companions sat down beside their friends, and were soon engaged in merry conversation. Daeglir was astonished to be able to feel his rescuers' bodies, and pleased to meet Gandalf for the first time.

"I don't believe we've met," the wizard smiled, extending his hand to the boy. "It's a pleasure, Daeglir."

Aeleth guided Daeglir's hand to Gandalf's, and they shook.

"The pleasure's all mine," said the boy, grinning.

A moment later, a group of servants arrived with their meal. Further conversation was somewhat stifled by fresh fruit and buttered toast; they talked a little between bites.

"How exactly did you thwart the Corsairs?" inquired Cirdan, after washing down his mouthful with a sip of water.

Elrond smiled wryly behind the napkin he was wiping his lips with. "With a little time, a little patience, a little inspiration, and a lot of luck," he answered. "And quite a bit of trickery as well. I masqueraded as the spirit of a drowned Corsair, and gave the pirates a 'message from an old crewmate'; and Galadriel did extremely well pretending to be a siren.

"But it was Gandalf who got Daeglir off the ship, by setting it on fire. The last Corsair on the ship had Daeglir with him in a longboat, and Galadriel and I took it in turns to drive him mad – the Corsair, not your grandson."

"And then you led him here," finished Cirdan.

"Yes," Elrond nodded.

"So you have no idea how this happened in the first place?" Aeleth spoke up.

"None whatsoever," the half-elf shrugged. "But looking back on everything, I believe it was worth it."

Galadriel and Gandalf nodded in agreement. "Absolutely."

Their meal finished, the six friends rose and headed out to the stables of Mithlond. It was warm and dim, and smelled of hay. The horses regarded them calmly as they passed each stall.

Cirdan led three horses out into the open, where a stable boy helped to fit the animals with saddles and bridles, and strap on sacks of provisions for the long journey. The three Ring-keepers mounted their steeds and rode eastward, calling out last farewells over their shoulders.

Elrond clung to his steed's reins as the wind blew in his face, whistling playfully in his ears. "Oh no you don't!" he cried.

Galadriel laughed, glancing sideways at her son-in-law. He half-frowned, half-smirked at her in reply, raising an eyebrow as if to say, "Just wait until it starts to rain… what will you say?"

She only smiled, turning back to the front. Laughing quietly to himself, Elrond spurred his mount onward.

----

That evening, the three friends camped beneath a rosy twilight sky. The first stars of night were twinkling overhead, and crickets began to chirp out lullabies for the travelers. It was extremely peaceful.

Elrond was drifting off to sleep when he heard Galadriel's voice murmuring his name beside him. "Elrond, are you asleep yet?"

"I was," he mumbled. "What do you need?"

"I thought you might want to say hello to your father," she replied softly, pointing a slender forefinger toward the brightest star in the heavens: Eärendil.

Elrond smiled serenely up at his father's star. "Hello, Ada."

Turning to his mother-in-law he said, "You know, I don't think our rings covered the fullness of the storm. Wind, rain and lightning, yes, but there was something else…"

"What would that be?" asked Gandalf, glancing over at him.

Elrond smiled as a vision drifted softly into his mind: a young, thin boy, with closely-cropped black hair and two slight indentations in his face where his eyes should have been.

"Shadows," he said softly.

**The End**


End file.
